


Spy Boy

by pipermclean



Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, Enemy Lovers, Jason-Centric, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6581791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipermclean/pseuds/pipermclean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason is a spy in enemy lines, and Piper is the nurse that saves him. (jasipereo wwii au)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spy Boy

**Author's Note:**

> someone asked for this on tumblr and i thought i'd post it here!
> 
> plot: WWII au - jason is a spy in enemy lines, and piper is the nurse that saves him.
> 
> prompt: "Here, drink this. You'll feel better."

 

In his line of sight, he could see shadows, silhouettes of silky black that slid across the expanse above him. All he could perceive was light and dark—the streaks of sunlight that found him in the dimness of the infirmary, and the suffocating gloom that hung over the wounded like a guillotine's blade. The last thing he remembered before he woke up here was getting hit, standing in front of Leo to save him, to keep him safe. But he must have failed, because when he mustered up what strength he had to push himself up in his berth, he saw a mop of curly hair peeking out from under a blanket, a lump of a man lying still on a cot, resting under grey wool.

Jason directed his gaze back to the ceiling, his heart constricting at the sight. Had he really failed? Feeling guilty, he let his head fall back into the firmness of his pillow. He didn't care if his friend was the enemy or not—it had been Jason's job to save him, and he had failed, almost getting himself killed in the process. He couldn't do _anything_ right. And now he was stuck in the opposition's infirmary, watching lamps swing low on the roof as bombs rung out and the groans of the dying filled the air.

Oh God, Lupa was _not_ going to like hearing about this when he got back.

To still his nerves, Jason tried to take in a gust of air, but his chest felt like it was pulled taut as a drawstring. He feared that the slightest movement would snap him in half. So, very slowly, he craned his head to the side one last time, and then turned back to the ceiling, shutting is eyes at the threat of tears.

Before he could cry, he heard footsteps approach his corner of the room. Curious, he went still, then waited. Soon, the footsteps stopped. Just when he thought the figure had stalled a few beds down, he opened his eyes to come face to face with one of the nurses.

He almost yelped. Jason expected the girl to look surprised too, but his gaze was only met with a wry smile. Grinning, she swept a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear and knelt down to his left, and it was then that he noticed the small kit at her side. He tensed, not sure what she was going to do, but waited as she rummaged through the box. He resorted to making small talk after clearing his throat.

"You have very quiet footsteps." Was that a compliment? A statement? He didn't know.

She didn't look up at him, which made him feel more disappointed than he'd care to admit. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and dignified, a contrast to the crooked smile she had given him only moments earlier. "Mm…so I've been told. Are your bandages holding up okay?"

Bandages? His eyes crept down to his chest. _That's_ why it was so hard to move and breathe—he'd been patched up.

"Yeah," he exhaled, worming his way up a little against the rough fabric of the cot. She leaned forward and tugged the blanket down a little ways. She didn't bat an eye at his exposed chest—which also disappointed him just a _tiny_ bit—but instead pressed her fingers firmly against the stained cloth, and he winced as the pressure increased. For a moment, he thought that something was wrong, but she looked satisfied with his response and withdrew her hand. He clearly wasn't enjoying this as much as she was.

"I was the one who bandaged you earlier," she said after a moment, going back into her box to pull out a tiny bottle, full of yellow liquid he was sure he'd never seen before. "You took a bad hit, and the medics had to remove a bullet from your chest. It was in real deep. But I heard about what you did out there," it was then that she glanced up at him briefly, her eyes sparking with interest and something close to respect before they returned to the bottle in her hand. "You saved Leo's life. He'd thank you, but he got hit in the leg dragging you out and now he's under a load of meds."

Jason was nearly speechless, not only surprised that his friend was alive, but that he'd taken a hit for him as well. He stared at her in awe, watching silently as she poured the liquid into a spoon. When she was done, she looked up and the two of them locked eyes. Neither of them said anything, and she let the spoon hover in the air between them. She didn't attempt to coax him to her, but he was drawn to her nonetheless. He was sure that the sparkle in her beautiful, multicolored eyes was not mirth, but a silent thank you, and he felt more alert than he had on the battle field.

He ignored the spoon and continued to hold her gaze. "What's your name?"

"Piper."

"You're friends with Leo?"

"Yes. He's the one that got me into this mess, but that's not important." It was then that she thrust the spoon toward his lips, the spell between them broken. "Here, drink this. You'll feel better."

He did as he was told, leaning forward to seal the spoon between his lips. The medicine tasted awfully sweet, almost reminding of a taste he had known before—like the blonde brownies he used to have back home, before the war broke out and he found himself in it. He savored the taste for as long as he could before Piper slid the spoon out of his mouth and tucked it back into her kit, concealing the bottle and her other supplies as she snapped it shut and motioned for him to lie back down.

Again, he followed her instructions. She was mesmerizing, in the way she moved and the shine of her eyes, and he couldn't look away from her. When his back was flat against the bunk, she stood. Under the dim lamplight, he saw the faded blood stains on her skirt, the smudges on her smooth forehead, and the wear and tear of her top, which was probably two sizes too big and hung off her frame like a circus tent. She was absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful, and he was absolutely, breathtakingly hooked.

He opened his mouth to say thank you, but the sound of her voice cut him off.

"By the way, the next time you decide to get shot, don't carry your pin with you." He hadn't even noticed it in her hand, but she tossed down a silver pin that had the name of his regiment and infantry on the enemy side—er, his  _original_ side—clearly stated. When it caught his eye, his face went red. Jason was already stressing over the end of his mission and imminent death when she winked at him and said, "But if you do, I'll be there to take it off you before the medics get to you. See you later, spy boy."

He sat up to watch her spin on her heel, and then collapsed back onto the cot with a groan. He was definitely in deep, hot water.


End file.
